NANCY EDMONDS HANSON: After Thought — Hitting Below The Belt
I miss Mister Whipple. The prim TV grocer’s pursed lips and disapproving glare were apparently all it took to move toilet paper off those shelves back when the Earth was young. Remember the giggling gaggle of housewives who’d give his display a surreptitious squish? Please don’t squeeze the Charmin! Those were the days — when prime-time television dared to push …